


Now is the winter of our management retreat

by Petra



Category: Slings & Arrows
Genre: Canadian Shack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-03
Updated: 2009-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do let's find out what flavor of ice cream everyone thinks the others are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now is the winter of our management retreat

**Author's Note:**

> There are many people who do not belong in a [Canadian shack](http://www.trickster.org/speranza/ShackedUp.html). Some of them end up there anyway. Thanks to Sage for making sure it made sense.

The retreat idea was Anna's, and it made Richard's eyes light up when he told Geoffrey about it and about just how profitable _Macbeth_ was, and how they could all afford to spend the winter on the Riviera if it was their money. It was the Festival's money, properly speaking, so instead of a winter on the Riviera they got a four-day weekend north of everything with tiny cabins in October. No one listened to Geoffrey when he tried to tell them that this was a horrible, horrible idea and that they would all indubitably die of exposure, but they at least listened when he said that it couldn't just be an administrative retreat with the prospective directors for the next season, for the very simple reason that he would stake Darren Nichols out to die of exposure if he didn't have someone reasonable to talk to.

Reasonable, he'd said, he reminded himself, as Ellen burned her hand on the camp stove and yelled, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," again.

"The first aid kit's right here," Geoffrey said, and helped her run cold water on her hand and bandage it.

"I hate this," she said, and leaned against him. "I want to go home three weeks ago and we've only been here overnight."

"I know. Me, too." Geoffrey kissed her forehead. "I'll make the coffee. I have to get to a meeting in--" he looked at his watch "--fifteen minutes anyway."

Ellen scowled. "It's still dark outside. What kind of maniac schedules meetings for when it's morning and it's dark?"

"Richard," Geoffrey said, and turned back to tame the stove.

*

"Well," Richard said when they'd all found somewhere to sit in the screened-in porch, free of black flies at this season but possessed of a biting wind. "I had a few activities planned for today, but I've been rethinking them. It's good to see everyone, at least."

They'd all driven up together, the overlong trip mercifully supplemented by alcohol for everyone but Geoffrey, who offered to drive the rented van however many hours it took to arrive on the condition that no one spoke to him all the way to the destination. "Everyone" consisted of Richard, Anna, Geoffrey, Darren, and a lawn chair Geoffrey was willing to swear was completely empty. Ellen was asleep again in a cocoon of sleeping bags and blankets back in the sleeping cabin. The other directors for the season, Jaime Grillo and Thierry Lune had, according to Anna, made their excuses at the very last minute--a family emergency, a dead aunt, very convenient--and saved themselves torment.

"I'd be fascinated to hear your plans in any case," Darren said in a fulsome tone that made Geoffrey gag.

Richard smiled and looked a little worried. "We can skip the icebreakers, really, since we're all acquainted."

"Oh, no, do let's find out what flavor of ice cream everyone thinks the others are," Darren said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "The new management techniques of 'Getting to Know You'--" being Darren, he sang the line, immediately calling upon a devil not easily dispelled "--are so essential to getting to the heart of what it means to be a team and facilitating positive interactional growth. Don't you think so, Geoffrey?"

Geoffrey folded his arms and shivered, wishing he'd packed a warmer coat. "I'm not on your team."

Richard cleared his throat and patted the chart paper he'd taped to the wall. There were four sheets. "I was thinking we should write down what we value about each other. I have markers."

"That's a great idea," Anna said, and got up, taking a marker from Richard.

"You're clearly one of those chocolate abominations with the lurking peanut butter cups," Darren said brightly to Geoffrey. "Apparently classic and smooth, but laden with secret pockets of pure evil."

Geoffrey took the high road and ignored this. "Why are there five chairs?" he asked, bracing himself for someone to say they'd expected him to bring Oliver. It had been almost long enough since he'd seen a ghostly manifestation that he missed it.

"For Ellen, of course," Richard said. "We should do a paper for her, too, whether or not she's coming."

Anna had written their names at the top of each paper in large, easy to read letters, and was writing something on Richard's paper when he said this. "Oh, of course. I'll get one," she said, and went into the cabin. The chart paper read, "Always very t."

"She's asleep," Geoffrey said, and didn't add that he wished he could be, too. He got up and took a marker from Richard. "What we value about each other," he said musingly, glanced at Darren, and went to his paper. Writing on the wall made his handwriting worse, but he managed, "Completely insane and without inhibitions" in a reasonably legible scrawl before he moved on to Anna's. "Indispensable. Reasonable. Accomplishes important things. Unlike rest of theatre, can find own ass without using both hands, map, and guidebook."

"Geoffrey," Richard said in the kind of tone that made Geoffrey wonder why he'd gone into bean counting and not kindergarten teaching, "I don't think what you've written for Darren is in the spirit of this exercise."

"Oh, dear," Anna said, as she came back out and took a look at it.

Darren raised his eyebrows at the paper, then gave Geoffrey a tight smile. "Don't worry about it, Richard. After all, I was on the verge of writing nearly the same thing for him."

Geoffrey blew on his fingers to warm them up. "There, you see? Besides, you didn't tell me it was all right to lie."

Richard sighed and uncapped his marker.

*

"What the hell is that?" Ellen asked when she came to Richard's cabin around noon and Geoffrey presented her with the crackly tube of paper with her name at the top.

The top said "Ellen" in Anna's neat handwriting, and underneath that, Darren's Ogham-like chicken scratch proclaimed, "Speaks loudly and clearly." There was a line going off the side of the paper where Geoffrey had bumped his arm on purpose, then another line of Ogham barely decipherable as "Acts tragic old women convincingly."

Anna's handwriting followed with "Professional, experienced, reliable."

Richard's printing, small and chunky with the size of the marker read, "Large box-office draw!! name recognition! Important part of the team," with an honest to God smiley face after it.

Geoffrey had simply written "Amazing."

"It's why everyone values you." Geoffrey cleared his throat. "I left off about three hundred things I could've written. Most of them weren't even lewd."

Ellen gave him a brief smile, then scowled at the paper. "Why did anyone invite Darren?"

"The directors were all supposed to be here," Geoffrey explained for the fifth time.

"He's such an ass."

"I know." Geoffrey gave her a quick kiss. "There's probably lunch by now. It might even be warm."

Ellen rolled up the paper again. "Good." She went into the kitchen/dining area and smacked Darren over the head with the tube as he was slurping a spoonful of soup. "I'll give you 'speaks loudly and clearly,' asshole."

"You do," Darren said, holding up one hand to stave off further blows.

"Good morning, Ellen. I mean afternoon," Anna said with a forced smile. "Would you like some soup?"

"What is it?"

"Alphabet noodles." Anna smiled more widely. "It's like eating a bowl of Scrabble. Only it tastes better."

Ellen made a face, but then she looked around the kitchen and realized there was nothing else immediately available. "Fine, yes. Thank you."

"Morning, Ellen," Richard said, and toasted her with his spoon. "Hey, look, my soup says 'Snow.'"

"God help us all if it starts doing that," Geoffrey said, and went over to the stove to serve himself a bowl.

*

"The Great Blizzard of Naught Five," Darren said mournfully, looking out the whited-out window for the seventeenth time in five minutes.

'It's actually a perfectly normal weather pattern for this time of year here. That's why they told me to bring two weeks' worth of food when I booked the cabins," Anna explained as they huddled around the kerosene heater. Darren gave her a hateful look and she said defensively, "It was very inexpensive."

In the kitchen, the radio hissed and the recorded tape loop instructing everyone in the county to hunker down until further notice repeated, starting with the French.

Richard sighed and moved his chair closer to the heater. "I don't have any more administrative business to discuss. Not until the telephones are back up, anyway."

Geoffrey had dragged their luggage in from their cabin through snowdrifts he didn't want to contemplate, and the only positive side of the whole thing was that Ellen was cuddled up next to him in their nest of bedding, her hands warm against his leg, instead of far to the south. "It's not that bad, really," he said.

"No, don't," Darren said. "You're not allowed to go mad again now, Geoffrey, I forbid it."

"I'm not," he said, and for once, he meant it. Eventually they'd all fall asleep, and it would be kind of like companionable silence.

Darren threw himself down into a chair, his six layers of shirts and scarves fluffing around him like the feathers of an irritated bird. "You certainly aren't normal."

Ellen laughed and leaned on Geoffrey. "This is normal," she said, and grinned when it made Darren roll his eyes.

"Besides, I brought some light reading." Geoffrey reached one arm out of the blankets and fumbled in his bag until he got a hold on the thick volume, then pulled it up onto his lap with a thump.

Richard laughed, sounding moderately hysterical. "You brought the Complete Works on a camping trip?"

"Well, yes. You never know when you're going to get bored. And if anyone gets on my nerves, it would probably make a reasonably good murder weapon of the 'blunt object' category." Geoffrey shrugged and opened it on his lap, leafing through it.

"I'm glad you have it, anyway." Anna grinned. "We could have a group reading."

"It's an awful lot to pass around just the one volume," Geoffrey said, wincing at the thought.

Darren coughed, an extensive attention-demanding noise that had very little to do with actual respiratory distress if Geoffrey was any judge.

He waited a full beat, then another, before he gave in. "What, Darren?"

"I might have one, too. In my bag." Darren got up again and went to his suitcase.

"Huh," Ellen said. "You know, that's almost like a redeeming characteristic."

"Almost?" Darren said irritably.

"Almost," Ellen agreed, and pulled Darren's chair closer to her while he was rummaging. When he came back with his own massive book, Ellen handed him a stray edge of blanket.

Darren looked at both sides of the fabric as warily as if she had handed him something poisoned before he tucked it around himself. "Thank you."

Richard shook his head and tucked his hands under his arms. "So, what are we going to read?" He smirked. "_Richard III_?"

"No," Geoffrey said firmly, just as Darren said the same. Geoffrey said, "It's not about winter, anyway. And we're not doing _Winter's Tale,_ not in this weather."

"It starts with winter. I know that much," Richard protested.

Geoffrey shook his head. "One of the comedies; this is already tragic enough."

"Could we do _Merry Wives of Windsor_?" Anna asked. "It's been a long time since you did that one."

It was nearly two decades since Geoffrey had been in it, with a handful of lines and Oliver's promises that he'd have something better next season and all he needed to do was hang in there. The promises had eventually come true. "Sure, why not," he said, and found the appropriate page.

"I suppose you want to be Falstaff," Darren said, mockery heavy in his voice.

"With the opportunity to have you read him?" Geoffrey tucked his hands inside his blankets. "Or--better yet, Richard, he's yours."

"Me?" Richard asked. It came out as nearly a squeak, and Geoffrey wondered if he'd ever seen the play in question.

"Sure," Geoffrey said. "We'll hand you the book when we get there. Ellen, could you help out?"

"Of course," she said, and kissed his cheek before she started to read.

*

In the three days before the roads were cleared, they read _As You Like It_ and _Twelfth Night_, and got into a huge argument about _The Merchant of Venice_ during which Geoffrey had to prevent Ellen from throwing the book at Darren. Then they tried sticking to the ones that Richard and Anna could do parts of without feeling too awkward: _Romeo and Juliet_, _Macbeth_ even without the ability to stage it at all, and when all else failed, _Midsummer Night's Dream_. Richard made a remarkably good Bottom, and though Anna's projection was nothing to write home about, she managed Titania well enough to make Ellen stop squeezing Geoffrey's leg. Eventually.

"That was really fun," Anna said when Geoffrey dropped her off at her house at the other end of the many-hours drive. She and Richard had spent half the trip back with the book open on their laps, reading pieces aloud. Geoffrey had focused on the terminally boring drive and occasionally whispered to them with the right pronunciation of a word, quietly so as not to wake Ellen in the passenger seat or Darren, who had claimed the far back and snored like a chainsaw.

"Parts of it were quite nice," Geoffrey agreed, and kissed her cheek as he handed her the sleeping bag and remaining cans of soup. "Is this everything?"

"Yes, thanks." Anna smiled at him. "See you tomorrow, Geoffrey."

"God, yes, that's right, it's Tuesday." Geoffrey smiled back at her. "See you."


End file.
